Summer Night
by Genevieve Darcy Granger
Summary: Negan comes to terms with saying goodbye to Lucille.


Not caring if sand clung to his dark jeans, Negan sat his ass in the white sand and lit up a cigarette. He looked more than a little out of place on the beach since he was still wearing his jeans, a white T-shirt, and a leather jacket rather than swimming trunks. At the very least, he had taken off his boots so he could dig is toes in the sand – surprisingly cool as it deflected the day's sunshine. Right now, it was sunset; and he watched as the orange rays bled over the greenish grey ocean on the horizon right in front of him.

Honestly, he didn't know why he came here. Ever since Lucille died, he had been avoiding coming here. Hell, he'd been avoiding everywhere familiar, too. Sometimes it felt like she was still clinging to him, but before he could reach out to her, she was gone again. Then he would remember that she had always been gone, and had been gone for a while before she'd even died either.

One day he just couldn't stop thinking about her, and it drove him so crazy that he just hopped on his bike and drove, no destination in mind whatsoever. For a while his stops were dive-bar after shit-hole-in-the-wall-dive-bar, infrequent stops at small-town diners, nasty-ass cockroach motels, and the occasional McDonald's. It's what he deserved, he told himself, and just kept going. Luckily, he was on leave from the school, so he didn't have to worry about anything. But that didn't stop him from worrying anyway – about Lucille, even though there was no need for that anymore, but about himself, too. Wondering why it was her and not him. In his mind, it should have been him.

Soon he'd have to go back again, try and collect the pieces of his life and pretend everything was normal even though it's not. Lucille won't be home, so what was the point of going home. He had to, though, he knew that. His funds, as it were, were dangerously low. Summer was almost over, school would start back again soon. But Negan had to come here. Maybe here, where they spent their last vacation together – before Negan's affairs started and before Lucille was diagnosed with cancer – he could say goodbye to her.

It was strange, though, how sitting on this beach now just felt so normal. With a small sigh, smoke seeping out from between his lips, Negan leaned back on one hand and brought the other up to his mouth, carefully tracing his fingers over his lips before he kissed the cigarette and held it there. Puffing slowly, Negan dragged his eyes over the rest of the beach, more than a little disgruntled at the litter everywhere: broken beach chairs, deflated floats and balls, beer bottles glittering in the last rays of the sun. The beach was mess, mostly abandoned except for Negan and a few other stranglers.

Negan never understood why more people didn't stay. The sunset was beautiful, and after Negan's impromptu biking trip around the eastern seaboard he was sure now that the sunset here was the most beautiful thing he had seen in quite some time. Exhaling smoke through his nose, Negan was sure that he felt at peace now. Everything was so ordinary.

Then he turned his head to the side and there she was. She looked so different since he last saw her. For one, she had her long and beautiful hair again. It blew gently in the sea breeze. Her eyes were lively, sparkling, though not exactly happy. Though she was smiling, too, it also wasn't happy either. "Lucille," Negan breathed, not daring to hope, and he fisted his hand in the sand.

For a long moment she didn't say anything, and Negan didn't expect her, too. The entire time they stared at each other Negan swore that time stood still for him. It was almost exactly how it felt when he knew he loved her. The sunset lingered, caught in that unearthly in-between of night and day. As he stared at her, taking her in, absorbing how she seemed so healthy – but also not real, not alive – unhappy all the same, though not weepy as she had been in her last few months…as he stared at her, he wondered if he could only see her now because this was one of those liminal spaces. Was that why he had taken to the road on his Harley? To find somewhere where they could be together again?

Of course, it had to be here. They had first met here. They'd fallen in love here. Negan had proposed here, married her here. And as day slowly faded into night, Negan felt closer to death next to her now than he ever had in that damn hospital. Eventually, words were torn from his mouth against his will, "You're not really Lucille. I'm just fucking crazy."

And Lucille tilted her head exactly how she always had. Her expression was bittersweet, eyes pained, smile tremulous. With baited breath, Negan waited for her to speak, to dispel all rational thoughts or confirm his insanity. But she only shook her head sadly, and Negan didn't know what that meant.

"Why are you here, Lucille?" Negan asked, rambling now once he saw that she wasn't leaving so soon, "Shouldn't a fucking angel like you be in Heaven?" It was a cruel twist of the cheesy pick-up line he used on her when they first met. You know the cliché, did it hurt when you fell from heaven. Negan had used it again when he proposed, and this time instead of laughing him off, Lucille had a witty retort prepared;

"No, but it sure as hell hurt when I fell so damn hard for you, Negan."

He had been so taken aback, touched, he proposed before he could fall to his knees or pull the damn ring out of his pocket.

Now, though, this Lucille pressed her lips together at him, and Negan noticed that while they were full, they weren't the luscious pink they'd once been. She had to be a ghost, had to be.

"Am I a fucking Scrooge, Lucille? You here to tell me about how I should expect three fucking visitors at midnight or some shit?" Again, Negan couldn't help but dredge up old memories. Negan had never been a heavy spender, but around the holidays, Lucille changed his mind. She always loved Christmas – he'd been more of a Halloween guy himself – but watching her stand in the snow, she really was a fucking angel.

Again, too, this Lucille quirked her mouth at him awkwardly, and Negan half-expected her to roll her eyes at him. But they were both caught in this spell where they couldn't look away. Negan didn't even want to blink. He'd already plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and held it loosely between his fingers, letting it smoke and burn between them like a cheap imitation of an incense.

Hesitantly, Negan asked her, "Unfinished business, Lucille? You can't move on 'til I do or something fucking stupid like that?"

That clicked with her, and Negan felt like her saw her flare up like a candle. He took it as a yes, and his breath was shaky when he exhaled. Negan wasn't ready to let her go, but he could tell that she didn't want to be here anymore.

Before she died, in one of her more lucid moments before they put her on morphine to be humane, Lucille made him promise that he'd move on after her. "You're young, Negan."

"No, I'm fucking not," he interrupted her, belligerently argued. Lucille was nearly ten years his junior. He should be the one on his goddamned death bed.

"Young at heart," Lucille said, eyes too dull to match her smile as the morphine dripped in her veins. "Love someone else, Negan."

"I can't."

"You have before," Lucille reminded him and Negan visibly flinched. "This time you have my blessing."

Fuck if that didn't haunt him. He thought Lucille didn't know, thought he broke it off in time that she'd never find out. But she did. Lucille always knew everything, and he didn't know why he had done it. He did love her, but he was just a piece of shit. No excuse, he knew, but he repeated that mistake many times with many different women.

Now though, now Negan could tell her the truth. "Lucille, those other woman – fuck, fuck – they didn't mean shit to me. They didn't mean dick to me. They're not you! None of them could be. Fuck, Lucille." Negan barely restrained himself from trying to cup her cheek, to grab her hand, to touch her like he wanted to. Just kiss her forehead goodbye one last time… "Lucille, I love you."

This Lucille surprised him. She smiled, and again, Negan felt like she was just a little too bright to look at. Like a damn solar flare. Her smile was finally happy, stretching wide, and tears spilled out of her eyes, catching in the corners of her mouth.

"Lucille, what does this mean?" His hand raised itself, cigarette tremoring so bad that the ash fell off and singed his hand. Immediately, he withdrew and Lucille seemed to dim, cautious that he wouldn't touch her.

Having learned his lesson – having almost lost her too soon before he could resolve this, to convince her that he was serious, he'd live a life of damn celibacy for her, become a creepy-ass priest – Negan sucked in a deep breath, not daring to breathe, keeping a distance between them.

Lucille nodded, seemingly pleased, and raised her chin at him.

Negan took it as a sign to continue this one-sided conversation. "Lucille, I'm yours. I'll never be able to love again."

But Lucille smirked at that – not a smile, but a smirk. And she looked like she wanted to laugh in disbelief.

"I'm fucking serious! I'll make a vow or something, fuck!"

Immediately, she shot him a look, and Negan remembered their wedding right here on this beach. It was 'til death do them part… and death had parted them. Fuck, that didn't mean he kept it, though, obviously, judging by Tanya and Frankie… Amber… Sherry… too many others. Having been reproached without her having to say a word, Negan winced slightly, truly cowed.

"What the hell else can I do for you, Lucille? I'll do fucking anything, fucking anything for you." Negan was nearly begging now, he felt pathetic, but he didn't care how he looked. Nobody was looking at him, but if they were, he didn't care if they called the cops. Desperate, Negan asked without thinking, "Do you want me to die for you? I'll fucking die for you."

That unsettled Lucille and Negan watched, horrified, as Lucille seemingly became something else. She didn't get brighter, but she got more… unsettling. Not like his Lucille at all. God, she looked fucking angry, and her hair that had been flowing in the wind so naturally, stilled and then squirmed like tentacles, angrily whipping across her face. Her eyes narrowed, mouth twisted into something cruel, and Negan felt cold seep into his bones, into his stomach.

"I won't die," he promised, "I won't. Please, Lucille, stop."

And then she went back to normal – or as normal as whatever she was good be.

"What do I do?" He helplessly asked, entirely at a loss. "What can I do?"

She looked satisfied, like he was finally asking the right answers. And Negan watched, a little horrified, as she turned away from him, looking down the beach at something. He didn't dare look, he wasn't ready to be alone again. He couldn't talk to empty space, he had to see her. He wasn't nearly done yet, not finished.

"Lucille… Lucille."

Refusing to look at him, she raised one hand and Negan knew better than to take it. She waved the hand at him as if she were saying goodbye and Negan's heart stopped and clenched and stuttered he didn't know what. Then she pointed down the beach where she was looking, and Negan finally, finally looked away quickly.

It was a woman, and damn he thought it was Lucille if he hadn't just been looking at her. She was wearing a sundress, appropriate for the beach, and it blew about her legs, billowing like Marilyn fucking Monroe. But Negan wasn't thinking of Marilyn when he looked at this woman. He was still thinking of Lucille, remembering how her wedding dress caught in the wind and nearly scandalized the guests, but thankfully her modesty was preserved. Negan got a sneak peak of the wedding night lingerie, though. The memory made him smile, and he didn't realize that he was smiling until the woman made eye contact with him and waved, smiling right back.

Fuck. Didn't he just say he would give up sex for Lucille but looking at this woman lit every nerve ending on fire anyway? Fuck, he was fucked.

That woman, though, actually started walking over to him, and Negan didn't know what to do. He glanced to his side nervously, but Lucille was gone. Looking up at the woman, he noticed now that she had two baskets, one full of seashells, other full of trash. She was the one who spoke first. "Hi."

"Hello," Negan's response was a little robotic, still letting Lucille sink in and fade away to the back of his mind. He wanted to savor the moment, but then, he wanted Lucille to be at peace more.

"Is that your Harley up there?"

Swallowing – not sure why he was, but he did – Negan nodded at her, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"It's beautiful," the woman complimented and sat beside him right where Lucille had been. Negan didn't stop her – it wouldn't make sense for him to do that anyway – and as he watched her settle down and cross her legs, fixing her dress and setting down the baskets, she looked like she fit perfectly where Lucille was. Like a missing fucking puzzle piece. It was eerie, but felt normal. So damn normal. Something Negan hadn't felt for a while, and he realized he missed it.

"My bike is at the shop," the woman continued, finally looking back at him. "Not nearly as nice as your Harley, though. Mine's just got junk from all kinds of bikes. Probably why it's in the shop," she ruefully admitted.

Negan felt himself smile, and it was natural and easygoing. "So, did you walk down to the beach or?"

"Or," the woman answered, smiling back. "Drove my truck instead. More room for my stuff, which is nice, but that just means I end up bringing a lot more shit with me to the beach. Oops, sorry. A lot more, uh, stuff to the beach."

"Don't fucking apologize for that," Negan waved it off, and belatedly noticed that his cigarette had snuffed out, burned to nothing.

Unbothered by his language, the woman seemed only encouraged about it. "Oh, you smoke? Can you light a fucker up for me? I've already used up a pack today. Nothing to do on the beach but smoke and drink and read when you're by yourself."

"That's not so fucking bad." Negan obediently pulled out a cigarette or her and lit it up, careful not to grab her chin with his other hand as he held the lighter up close to her pretty face. "You can collect sea shells and clean up the shit on the beach, too. Lot more things than you can think of."

The woman laughed, "Yeah, I suppose so. I'm a bit of hoarder. I like broken things. Most people think its shit, but, I dunno. It's my shit."

Negan felt like he could relate in a way. He didn't collect stuff, but he could relate somehow. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

"That's the saying," the woman agreed. "Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you my name."

"That's fucking fine," Negan assured her, "I did, too. Hi, I'm Negan."

"Hello, Negan." She shook his hand politely, her smirk causing the cigarette between her lips to dance as she talked around it, "I'm Louise."

God, she couldn't be real. Negan thought of his Lucille, clever Lucille. Dead Lucille who became fucking omnipotent or some shit. Louise. Lucille. Meeting on a beach. She liked bikes and broken things. Negan like bikes and he was a broken piece of shit. Fuck, it was too much of a fucking coincidence. But his Lucille had never been for subtly.

Still, Negan had to confirm it. He needed to be sure that this was what Lucille wanted, that Louise wasn't just another hallucination or a test of his loyalty. Daringly, he reached out, catching wisps of her hair on his fingers, and she let him push her hair behind her ear, tucking it there gently to keep it out of her face. Her hair was warm against his fingertips, the dark coloring of her hair helping to keep the heat of the day. Now with her hair out of her face he could tell that her eyes were soulful, unlike that visiting Lucille's. Yes, Louise was real.

Whatever this was could be real, too.

"Sun is gone," Louise said plainly, blushing prettily underneath his touch.

Looking back at the ocean, Negan saw that night had fallen in full. Soon the moon would rise, bath the ocean white and the sand would glow. Maybe there'd be a few stars, too. That would be beautiful to watch. "Yeah," Negan agreed slowly, his tongue stumbling, "I might just stay to watch the moon rise."

"Well if you're gonna do that, you might as well watch the sunrise, too." Louise settled down as if she wasn't intending to leave him alone. Negan wasn't sure if it was for him or for the moon, but he hoped it wasn't out of concern. Hopefully, she hadn't seen him talk to the air earlier, but he didn't think so.

"I suppose I can. I've got nowhere to fucking be, nowhere to fucking go."

She looked over at him, leaning back on her elbows. "You could come home with me instead." Negan's eyes widened at her boldness, but Louise didn't leave it at that. "Or we can fuck around her. Or none of that. We just fucking met after all." Her smile morphed into a smirk, and Negan saw Lucille flickered and then fade away completely. He didn't feel beholden to her anymore. "But I have a feeling that if we get to know each other, whatever this is between us could be more if you like."

"Yeah, it fucking could," Negan agreed, and he wanted to kiss her. But he didn't. Baby steps. No need to rush. Lucille had told him to love again and that takes time. This time, though, he had no intention of losing a good thing with stupid mistakes on his part. And more than that, he had a feeling Louise would be with him for quite some time. Just a feeling, a feeling he felt like Lucille was trying to tell him.

And then all presence of Lucille there might have been was gone, and he was staring at Louise who was staring at the horizon. Maybe Lucille was right, maybe he could love again. Maybe, just maybe.


End file.
